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Trying to Exhale

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin

I write because I love doing so. I write to process my feelings. I write to make others laugh, cringe or think. I write to educate. And, thanks to the reach of the blogosphere, I write as a way to communicate with friends from all stages of my life and receive support from others.

The compassion and strength you all showed in your comments last week meant so much to me. Processing the emotions surrounding my upcoming mastectomies isn’t linear. Most times, I’m comfortable with my decision, and my emotions are calm. Other times, though, I’m edgy, angry and sad. I wrote last week’s post about my surgery when all those emotions were coming to a head. You got that and were able to offer support without judgment or platitudes. Thank you!

In my pre-op appointment with the reconstructive surgeon last week, she informed me that she won’t be taking my back muscle and tissue during this surgery. That’s very good news! I’ll be out of the hospital in a night or two. I hopefully will be able to sleep on my back, and I won’t need as much physical therapy. (There’s a slight chance that the surgeon might need to take from my back muscle during reconstruction, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.)

Over the past two weeks, I’ve lined up care from home nurses, dog walkers and friends. Given my health history, I can’t predict how my body will react after surgery, but I can take control of certain elements. (For those of you who might be wondering, my best friend will be with me at the hospital, but The Man insisted on joining us. Yes, he's a good guy.)

I’m sure I’ll be writing more about surgery in the coming week, but for now, I’m able to focus on my blessings. I keep reminding myself of the reasons why this is the recommended course of action for me. I close my eyes, exhale and think of myself a few years from now, hugging my daughter with my long ponytail blowing in the breeze.